Cracked
by katie3
Summary: In the beginning, there was Johnny, and there was a mural. . .
1. Perfectly Happy

This fic will be on the subject of Johnny's past as I see it. I'm not sure how long it'll end up  
being, but I've got at least a few chapters worth of ideas, so check back. If you can't wait to read  
something else, please check out my other JtHM/IFS fic, 'Static'. Thank you! Tell me if you like  
this!  
  
Johnny hummed to himself as he worked on the mural in his basement. It was of a  
shadowy, spindly, hunched figure on a dark night on a hilltop. It looked like a very horrific  
version of Johnny himself. Johnny ran out of music in his mind, but continued humming. Why  
chance it?   
He realized how sad it was that he was desperately trying to stop something that was so  
inevitably happening that it was terrifying. But Johnny wanted to prevent any internal  
conversations at all costs. Who knew what he might start talking about with himself this time?  
He tried to suppress the urge to scream at the fact that he felt that he was losing control of his  
mind. What do you call it when a man is drunk and he feels this way? The DTs. When he's on  
drugs? A bad trip. When he's never had a drink or a smoke in his life? Insanity.   
'That's right, Johnny.'   
Oh, no.   
'Actually, not quite right. But close! You are not going to get rid of us. We're too deeply  
rooted. So don't even think about shaking us off. Too late.'  
Johnny stared at the painting on the wall. It was all dark shades of greys, greens, browns,  
purples, blacks. Something was missing. What was it. . .?  
'Johnny, you can't block us out. You need us.'  
"I need you for nothing," muttered Johnny. He just wanted to work. He *needed* to  
work. Had to finish this. It was a sickness in him and he needed to get it out. If he just didn't turn  
around it'd all be okay. Just don't turn around. . .  
Johnny turned and faced the two Styrofoam horrors. He had painted them only a few days  
ago, but he already felt it was the biggest mistake of his life. He had started finding it very  
difficult to sleep lately, and his appetite had dwindled to nothing. He had always been skinny, but  
now it was getting to the point of emaciation. The two Pillsbury Doughboy models grinned their  
eternal grins. Though, imagined Johnny, it was not so hard to see them screaming in rage.   
'Now why would we scream, Johnny? We're perfectly happy.'  
Johnny frowned and turned back to the painting. His eyes drifted over it, and he tossed  
aside his brush. He no longer felt like painting. He turned to leave, and shuddered as he walked  
past the two Styrofoam models. They did not move.   
'Perfectly happy.' 


	2. The Bookshop

Johnny went for a walk. He wandered for some time all around the city. It hadn't used to  
bother him but now, for some reason, he felt resentment towards almost all people he saw. He  
felt an urge to get away from all of the noise, and decided to head for the bookstore he knew was  
a few blocks away.   
He had never been inside the store, and had never had any real interest in going inside.  
Now, though, it seemed like a haven in the city. It was as though the store existed in its own little  
pocket of air in the universe and no other noise could seep in.   
Johnny looked through the shelves of endless words, thoughts, punctuations, and  
sentences, all bound together onto paper for any person to come along and see them and learn  
from them. The part that Johnny found sad was that it was a very empty little shop.   
Johnny picked up a book and read the title. "Chicken Soup for Slowly Deteriorating Soul." The tag read "50% off  
$6." Cheap enough.  
Johnny fished a five and a one out of his pocket, and then another one for tax. Pain in the ass,  
taxes were.   
He walked up to the counter. The girl at the register did not notice him. She was  
sketching on the back of an order form, humming to herself.  
"Uhm. . . excuse me, miss. . .?" Johnny coughed to get her attention. She looked up.  
"Shit! Sorry about that! Uhh. . . so you want. . ." she trailed off, staring at this strange  
guy. He just seemed to command quiet. One of those guys that you had to listen to.   
"Uh, yeah. Book." Johnny pointed at the book in his hand. "I give you the money and leave  
with said book. You do not call police as I leave store. I have no reason to run from said police.  
Fade out to black. The end. Roll credits and call in the janitors to sweep up the popcorn."   
The girl laughed. "Sorry. I'm just a little out of it today. My friend was at the police  
station last night for, uh, scaring some kids." She coughed. "You mighta seen it on the news. . ."  
"She was the one who chased that ice cream truck on Interstate 40? Shit!" exclaimed  
Johnny. "And yeah, the news guy did say something about children still being latched to the  
truck. . ."  
The girl laughed. "Hey, you should come back here sometime. It's nice to meet someone  
who can carry on a conversation and not, y'know. . . transplant evil forces bent on taking over  
my consciousness into my head, or something."  
They both laughed.  
Johnny introduced himself. "My name's Johnny."  
"So, what should I call you?" she asked.   
"Call me?" he repeated, confused. "People always just called me 'Johnny'."  
She shrugged. "Isn't that a bit, I dunno. . . hokey?"  
"Thank you."  
"How 'bout I call you 'John'?" she asked.  
Johnny blinked. "'John'? That's so. . . serious."  
"Fine. I'll just call you 'Nny' then," she said sarcastically.   
Johnny paused. ". . . I. . . like that."  
The girl blinked. "Really?"   
"Yeah. Call me 'Nny'."  
"Alright. And my name's Devi."  
Johnny tried the name in his head. "That's a nice name," he said awkwardly. "Uhh. . ." he  
looked at his money in his hand without thinking about why it was there.   
"So. . ." Devi started, "So I'll see you again sometime?"  
Johnny smiled. The action seemed to cost him a great deal of effort. "Yeah. Yeah, I think  
you will." 


	3. Red Paint

He didn't want to be, but oh God he was in the basement again, working on that mural. Alone on a hilltop. Johnny didn't bother hiding it now. Who was there to hide it from, alone here? Nobody. . . he could not hide it from himself, after all.   
He had discovered what it was that was missing from the painting. The color red. He had been sitting in his kitchen, forcing himself to eat, when he had just thought, "Red," and ran downstairs and stared at the mural for hours. Insanity. He talked to the two Pillsbury Doughboys the whole time.   
"It needs red."  
Why, whatever for, Johnny? asked the voice that seemed a bit more depressing, less fierce.  
"I. . . don't know," Johnny replied.   
Oh-oh! I think Johnny-wohnny just told us a wittle fibby-wibby!  
Johnny gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. You're not real, you're not real. Go away, leave me alone. I don't want this.   
We didn't ask if you wanted us, Johnny. We do not ask. We take what we want. And you can too!   
"No!" said Johnny stubbornly, sounding like a pouting child who will not do what Mommy wants him to do. "No, I won't!"  
Tell us, Johnny. Why do you need red?  
"NO!"  
Johnny, you will tell! Like it or not, you will have to!  
"I DON'T WANT TO!"  
TELL US.   
"WHY?!"  
We can get you red.   
Johnny paused at that. Get him red? What did they mean by that? He had red paint. . .  
Tell us, and we will get you red.   
Johnny hung his head and whispered, "The man's hands are covered in blood. I need red to paint the blood on the man's hands." He inhaled deeply and a ragged sigh escaped him.  
Well, then, Johnny, why don't we go and get some red? whispered the fierce doughboy.   
"I have red paint," muttered Johnny.   
Both of the doughboys laughed now. Do you, Johnny? Well, why don't you try and paint with it. See how you like the results, hm? Yes?  
Johnny said nothing, but pulled a jar of red paint off of a shelf, unscrewed the lid, and dipped a brush in. He held the brush up to the wall. And dropped it. Before Johnny knew what was happening, his legs were pumping up the stairs and he was screaming, "I HAVE RED!! RED PAINT!! PAINT!! I DON'T WANT THIS!!" 


End file.
